


Extrasensory Beginners

by gigantic



Category: Good Wife (TV), Suits (TV)
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-21
Updated: 2011-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-24 07:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigantic/pseuds/gigantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike and Harvey take on a case that sends them to Chicago. This is Mike's first business trip. He acts like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Extrasensory Beginners

**Author's Note:**

> Big ups to paitac for helping me vague it up enough to make this situation just improbable, and to insunshine, who graciously made me less of a slob. The law is as phony as Mike's cereal box degree. My apologies to the bamf ladies on both shows that are missing from this story.

Most days, Mike's still excited that he can bill for attending nighttime events because he might meet with a client. Business travel isn't even on his radar when Harvey comes by his cubicle to say, "We're staying downtown, and it's colder in Chicago than New York right now. Pack well. I don't need you sniffling in the middle of testimony."

He's dropping a file on Mike's desk as he speaks. Mike opens the folder and scans the first two pages, saying, "We're going to Chicago?"

"If Ground Fleet wants to deny financial responsibility, it's because they're confident they have enough money to drain us first," Harvey says.

"One trucking company," Mike says, frowning at the words in front of him.

Harvey says, "With a much bigger parent. They want to avoid my territory? I'll crash theirs."

"You're actually going to court?" Mike asks, sitting back in his seat. "I get to come?"

Harvey points down to the file and says, "Read."

In the second it takes for Mike to glance back to his materials, Harvey's already moved on. Mike glances up, shifting in his chair to call, "Harvey!"

"Just book a one-way on the Pearson Hardman account. We'll worry about the flight back later," Harvey says.

"But I need --" Mike tries, except Harvey's already disappeared around the corner before he can finish his sentence. He swivels his chair to face his monitor again. "How do I book a business flight?"

;;

Expensing. Is. Awesome.

Expensing airport purchases before a flight is nearly as amazing as then getting to board a first class flight he didn't have to purchase himself. Mike eats way more food than he needs, just because he can, and when the flight attendant asks him if he'd like another drink an hour into the trip, Mike looks to Harvey.

"What about alcohol?" he asks.

"It's ten in the morning," Harvey says, eyes on his newspaper.

"I mean, I'm not --" Mike pauses to turn to the attendant and request another Coke "-- it's curiosity."

"Hush, or I'll make you fly home business select."

"Is that supposed to be worse?" Mike asks, because he's only ever flown coach and not even with an airline that has wifi or enough blankets for everyone.

That does get Harvey's attention. He raises an eyebrow at Mike, and says, "You've used my business card before. How is this new?"

"That was different," Mike says. "That was for clients. The omelet that was just the size of my face was all me."

Harvey rolls his eyes. He says, "If you make yourself sick, you still have to work."

"Oh, I didn't realize I brought my grandmother on this trip," Mike says.

Harvey's voice is flatter as he says, "You can have another Flintstone's vitamin before lunch," flipping the paper over to continue reading.

Mike buys a large cinnamon roll after they land at Midway. When the cashier asks if he needs a receipt, Mike says, "Yeah, so I can expense it."

"Oh, goodie for you," she says in a way that makes it clear she doesn't really feel that excited that Mike glances around to make sure he's not still in New York. It makes him rethink his words.

Mike says, "I mean, I could just not worry about it too."

The cashier hands him his pastry and his receipt. She says, "Have a good day, sir."

"Uh, you too," Mike says, though he at least means his well wishes.

Biting into his fresh cinnamon roll cures his moment of self-doubt for the ten seconds it takes to meet up with Harvey again.

"All that sugar's going to make you crash later," Harvey says as he notices the snack. "Don't get glaze everywhere. I don't carry Wet Naps."

"I'll just lick my fingers," Mike says and smiles at the way Harvey twists his mouth. "Want some --"

"Stop, no," Harvey says, ducking Mike's food. Mike takes a victorious bite out of the roll when Harvey cuts a quick disapproving glare back at him.

"Yeah, I know, I know," he says, voice muffled by dough.

;;

But the real laughs are on him, because Mike spends a nice chunk of money on food, gets a good flight, and then when they arrive at the Cook County State's Attorney's office, he realizes that Harvey's accepted a proposal for a joint case.

"Eldridge is suing for damages," Mike says. "We're ready to go for an interstate accident."

"Ground Fleet is owned by Neitland Trucking," Harvey says. "It gives them deeper pockets, but it exposes them to Neitland's problems too. On paper, Neitland's a clean transport corporation. A couple years ago, one of their hauls was implicated in a seizure."

"Like Eldridge and his container," Mike says. "Are they related? Somehow Neitland's setting it up."

Harvey shakes his head. "Courts ruled that the other driver acted independently."

"And now they're going to the do the same to Eldridge," Mike says.

"If Neitland's bold enough to refuse settlement and absorb a subsidiary's dispute, then they're confident they can bury our client," Harvey says. "But it also tells us that people at a central, senior level think they have a need to. The state attorney's been trying to build a case against the hub alone since before he was reinstated, but Neitland's got a good team."

"They don't have you," Mike says, and then thinks about Harvey's words again. "Wait, re-instated?"

"State Attorney Florrick," Harvey announces, holding out his hand as Peter Florrick appears to greet them.

"Harvey Specter," Florrick says. "They told me I was getting New York's best closer. It's good to meet you." He gestures to the man that comes to stand beside him. "This is one of our best ASAs, Cary Agos."

Harvey says, "And this my associate, Mike Ross."

He steps back to draw Peter's attention to Mike. His hand presses to the small of Mike's back briefly, and Mike tries to catch Harvey's eyes for some kind of confirmation that he isn't losing his mind. Peter Florrick -- as in, Mike listened to the leaked sex tape featuring Peter Florrick and a girl named Amber after Trevor got him high one night and then wouldn't stop quoting parts of it in a really bad attempt at sex phone voice.

Mike shakes Peter's hand.

"Welcome, Mike," Florrick says.

Holy shit.

"First interstate case?"

Mike stops thinking about how he's going to milk the reveal of this story to Rachel, and says, "Uh, yes, sir. But I came ready to go to court."

"Luckily, it doesn't have to happen that fast," Florrick says, mouth stretching to the side in the kind of amused smirk Mike's seen on a lot of people in the last year. "But I like your enthusiasm."

In that Chelsea Handler interview, Amber said they'd had a threesome.

He realizes he's staring when Harvey touches Mike's arm as he says, "We know the major parts, but we need to make sure we're backing ourselves up."

Florrick says, "Of course, I'll set you up with Cary."

…which is how Mike comes to Chicago for a big court case and ends up in a room full of boxes with Assistant State Attorney Cary Agos.

Mike scans the boxes, counting them, and says, "How much do you have on Neitland?"

"Not as much as it seems. They're good at drowning people in paperwork," Cary says. "Nice tie."

Mike looks down at his shirt and skinny tie and presses his lips together, frowning. Great, a funny guy. He looks to Cary and says, "And they need us to get through all of this in time for trial."

"Our focus is really names,"Cary says. "Your guy Eldridge is an involuntary runner, right? So we're thinking there had to have been other drivers, people who got suspicious and were eliminated."

"Great, so we get to stay in this room and search a bunch of papers for suspicious terminations," Mike says.

Cary says, "What, too much for you?"

"Please," Mike says. "I can get through these in two nights."

"Yeah, right," Cary says.

"It won't make it not suck, but I can do it."

Mike thinks about elaborating, but Cary's already glancing from the boxes back to Mike and says, "Want to make a wager?"

No, Mike thinks. He wants to see a trial. He also wants to explore Chicago, but if he has to be stuck buried in files for the next few days and then try to convince potential witnesses to testify, he might as well make the first part as interesting as possible.

He says, "Winner gets the other guy's tie."

Cary snorts, and then chuckles when Mike doesn't budge. He says, "My -- my tie. Why do you want my tie?"

"Because you mocked mine, so I figure I should get a respectable tie while I'm out here." Mike shrugs. "Why not start with yours?"

"Whoever's made it through less boxes in the next four hours buys dinner," Cary says.

"Deal. I'll take a tie and dinner," Mike says, and they shake on it.

;;

Mike loves Chicago. Free flights, free food, free ties. What a beautiful, giving city.

Cary buys Chinese at Mike's request, and as the victor, Mike eats all the beef and broccoli. Cary says, "You cheated, but I'm a man of my word, so."

"Hey, you suggested the bet," Mike says. This is the best Chinese food he's had in a long time. It tastes like superiority and unsportmanslike gloating drenched in soy sauce.

"You could at least tell me how you did it." Cary winds noodles around his chopsticks and watches Mike as he chews.

Mike says, "Eidetic memory. Plus, I'm just good with books and documents anyway. Always have been."

"So that's why you're the associate Specter brought with him."

That sounds nice and all, Mike thinks, like he's just that much of a star among fifty associates at Pearson Hardman, but he's never been sure that's really the case. He says, "Yeah, super glamorous how it means I get to do research just like everybody else."

"You're still here. They're not," Cary says. He turns to look at the stacks of paper on the table next to him. He holds up a document and says, "This memorandum from August 23, 2006. Did you read it already?"

"Yes," Mike says and wipes his mouth with his hand. He needs a napkin. He considers undoing Cary's tie from around his arm and using that, but then thinks about Harvey warning him about the glaze. Mike gets up to get a napkin. "It seemed alright. No alarm bells."

"Do you remember it? All of it?" Cary asks.

Oh. "Oh, yeah."

"What's it say?"

Mike makes Cary wait while he takes another bite of food and swallows before he recites the entirety of the document. He does not perform memory tricks whenever someone pleases, thank you very much. That is, unless it's needed to convince a client that he can hack this job despite his age. Cary's eyes get wider as Mike goes, so impossibly large by the end that Mike almost laughs at him when he finishes.

"That's insane," Cary says.

"Look at how you _look_ ," Mike says, and then makes himself shake it off. "Whatever, we still haven't found a possible yet."

"No, but it won't take long with you here," Cary says, which throws Mike off. Cary almost sounds impressed.

;;

Suggesting they might have some luck seems to help bring it about. Cary's right; they find more than one viable witness over the next day and a half. Having one witness with a strong enough foundation and more than one attorney working on the case engenders more confidence in some of the people Cary and Mike contact than Cary says he'd encountered on his own before this point. One woman is still so bitter about her termination that she volunteers to testify that afternoon. They only need to say the word.

They present the information to Peter Florrick and Harvey. There are three people willing to offer a testimony: two men and the woman, another Ground Fleet employee.

"Dolores Albert sent several reports to her supervisors, warning them about people she'd met on the road that had too many questions," Cary explains. "She thought she was being felt out for people looking to rob vehicles without enough protection or insurance."

Mike picks up the story. "Ground Fleet never did anything, and then claimed they were limiting the runs throughout that district. They needed to cut drivers."

"Took her out of the pictures," Peter says.

"And copies of her formal reports aren't in the files we have," Cary says.

"But Dolores has them," Mike says, and he slides Harvey and Peter a folder each.

Harvey flips through his contents quickly. He looks up and says, "She's willing to put this all on record? How soon?"

"Today," Cary says. "We can depose her today, if we need."

"We do," Harvey says.

Cary leaves to arrange for Harvey to meet with Dolores Albert later that afternoon. Peter congratulates Cary and Mike on finding such useful information, and Mike gets up as Harvey does, following him out of the room.

"Peter Florrick," Mike starts, because he hasn't had an opportunity to bring this up yet. "As in prostitution scandal of Illinois Peter Florrick."

"Sure, Mike, let's talk about this in the middle of a government office," Harvey says. "Let's not even wait until we're out of earshot."

Florrick isn't there when Mike looks around to check, so he presses on. He asks, "Have you ever worked with him before?"

"No."

"But we agreed to working with his office even with those corruption charges?" Mike says, lowering his voice and ducking his head in closer. "After Cameron --"

"After Cameron, it's important to me that Florrick was cleared of all charges," Harvey says, interrupting. "He campaigned to earn his position back, and it worked. It's a strong case. And the material you and Agos found is part of why we'll win."

"Me, mostly," Mike says, "since I'm the faster reader with the impossible memory."

Harvey steps out to the curb and says, "Competition between associates -- cute. And now you get bragging rights." He touches Mike's elbow. "Hold out your arm."

"What?" Mike says, confused, but he does it. Harvey checks his phone. "I got more than bragging rights. It was his own bet too."

"Good," Harvey says.

"I had him buy me dinner." Harvey looks up then. Mike looks at his arm. He asks, "Why am I doing this?"

"Cab."

"Seriously?" Mike asks. Seriously? He's going to drop his arm now.

"Leave it," Harvey says. He furrows his brow as he continues to survey Mike. "Remember, we're getting paid to work here, not flirt."

"It was takeout," Mike says. There's nothing seductive about fast Chinese food even as a joke, and Mike admits this as someone who thinks the world has never offered better cuisine. "OK, I've seen six cabs pass."

Harvey finally looks back toward the street and raises his arm to hail a taxi. A car pulls over less than a minute later.

"How did you do that?" Mike asks.

Harvey opens the car door and motions Mike in. He says, "Well, it's lunchtime now, hot shot. You can go over more details about the witness while we eat."

"Wow, you're taking me to lunch."

Mike loves business trips.

"Unless you have leftover takeout," Harvey says. He seems pleased by the wry smile Mike gives him, but then holds out his hand as Mike starts to make room for him. "No, don't slide. You stay on this side."

He closes the door, and Mike catches the eye of the cab driver during the seconds it takes for Harvey to round the cab. He says, "Wrinkles the suit pants, I think."

The cab driver averts his eyes.

;;

Harvey's present for the deposition, but he and Peter leave the bulk of the witness preparation to Mike and Cary. Somewhere along the way, Cary forgets that they're supposed to be trying to help these people, because he starts poking holes in testimonies like he's trying to get their witnesses to confess to murder.

"Mr. Vance, you said you'd heard rumors about other trucks on your route with stolen cargo?" Cary asks.

Spencer Vance is in his 60s, the kind of well-worn and real that makes Mike feel silly for having his shirt buttoned up all the way. When Vance talks it comes out in a jagged rasp. He says, "Yes. Never saw much hard proof before, but you hear things."

"Why no proof? You never interacted with any of the the drivers who'd been targeted on the same route?"

"Everybody's coming and going," Vance says. "A lot of drivers don't even stick to one kind of haul. It's a big operation. There's always new rigs. I was lucky to be making enough with the same runs."

"So the system was hard to get a handle on?"

"Yeah. At first."

"But someone familiar with the route would know how often other drivers crossed paths?"

"It would take a while."

"How long had you been driving the same route for Neitland Trucking?"

Mr. Vance sits straighter in his seat. He says, "You're not suggesting that I --"

"I'm asking how long you were employed with Neitland on the same route, Mr. Vance."

"It's OK to answer the question," Mike says.

Vance starts to wrings his hands. He fidgets more when he starts to get anxious. Mike reminds him to take a breath.

"Twenty years," Vance says. "Some variations here and there, but twenty years of about the same route."

"Long enough to get used it?" Cary asks. "You knew which drivers were regulars?"

"Yeah, some of them, but ---"

"Were you used to how often you'd run into familiar drivers on the route, or even signing in cargo? You knew the lay of the roads? Were you that familiar?"

"I had a reputation at that company," Mr. Vance says, sitting forward in his seat again. He taps the table with his index finger. "I have kids struggling out here. I have a home to keep."

"Please answer the question, sir."

"Why would I risk my job?"

Vance fidgets more, folding his hands and unfolding them. Each time he taps his finger against the table, Mike blinks.

Cary, still calm, says, "You just mentioned that you had kids. A home."

"I worked _thirty-five years_ for these people, and they force me out!"

"Mr. Vance, were you familiar with --"

"Mr. Agos, can I have a moment?" Mike asks, cutting the line questioning as Vance starts to cough. He sucks in a breath, and Mike holds up a hand. "One minute, Mr. Vance. Excuse us."

Mike rises from the table and waits for Cary to come along. He follows Mike to the door, stepping just outside the room. As Cary pulls the door to, looking back one time to see Mr. Vance, Mike says, "Dude, calm down. What are you doing in there?"

"What am I --" Cary repeats, and then, "I'm sorry, I thought we were preparing a witness. That includes prepping him for when they try to twist the facts."

"Look at him; he's about to start hyperventilating," Mike says. They're supposed to be getting ready for trial, not harassing an old man.

"He's going up against a corporation that got rid of him because it was convenient," Cary says. "It's been near impossible to get this company into court, and it's not because people haven't tried."

Mike says, "He knows his story. He's just nervous."

"You don't think they'll use that to discredit him?" Cary asks. He's a few inches shorter than Mike, but what he lacks in height, he makes up for in this kind of intense conviction to his words.

"He'll be fine."

Cary says, "Yeah, if he's ready for everything they throw at him. They won't trust him as much as you do. We need to ask him tough questions. Dude."

"Chill out."

"Are you telling me how to do my job?"

Cary is all confidence, but that also makes him kind of a dick. Mike exhales and pushes past him.

"I'm going back in to help our witness," Mike says, shrugging Cary away. As he enters the room again, he asks Vance, "Sir, can I get you some more water? Do you need another minute before we continue?"

;;

Reviewing the tapes later, Harvey pauses halfway through Vance's questioning to ask, "Albert -- she's more solid than this man, correct?"

Mike says, "Yeah, but Mr. Vance is good too. They'll work."

"Mr. Vance here needs to learn to control his outbursts," Harvey says. "Explosions make you look like a liar. If you're innocent, what do you need to be stressed out about?"

"Agos practically accused him of stealing all of that merchandise."

"Neitland's subsidiary will do the same thing." Harvey sets down the remote control and gets up to pour himself a glass of water.

"That doesn't make sense. They guy's still barely making ends meet now."

"But he's out of major debt. He still has his house."

"He didn't do that."

"What matters is whether or not that jury'll think he did that," Harvey says. "And if Vance gets up there and starts shifting and stuttering, they will. It was a good cross examination."

Mike isn't buying it. He can't believe Harvey's buying that either. Mike drops his head in his hands, trying to see it their way, but the only thing behind his eyelids is the image of Vance's jittery hands. He says, "It was cruel."

"So is Neitland." Harvey finishes his water, set down the glass and taps its rim. "Anyway, Cary Argos is trying to earn back second chair for trial."

"This really is a competition?" Mike asks, focusing in again. At the look Harvey gives him, Mike reorders his thinking and lets it dawn on him. "Wait, it's you and Florrick. So we don't even get to go to trial."

"It's open court, Mike, you can come to trial," Harvey says. He turns off Vance's tape completely. "You think I want you to miss me in front of a jury? Come on, we need to meet with Florrick."

"But we came all the way to Chicago," Mike says. He's not even going to court? He came to an entirely new state to do what he does in New York every day? "So, Florrick runs the show while you sit back. You're letting that happen."

Harvey buttons up his jacket as they exit, saying, "No, I'm going to close this case. And you're going to make sure Martin Vance doesn't ruin my performance. Or we'll have to pull a new witness out of thin air."

Cary's words to Mike from their first night going through files comes to mind. Mike asks, "Is that why you brought me out here instead of another associate? Because I get through this information fast enough."

"I didn't hire any of those associates," Harvey says. He holds his hand out for the files and Mike hands them over. "I hired you. I brought my associate. Now, this third witness -- he works for another subsidiary?"

"Oh, yeah," Mike says, frowning to himself a little. "But in Michigan, so there's been some direct overlap, unlike Eldridge."

;;

On their last day of witness of prep, the day before trial, Cary says, "I'll need to ask Vance some harder questions again today.  Do you want to make him milk and cookies first?"

"Good one," Mike says. "Did you think that up this morning?"

"Special for you," Cary says, smiling, and Mike takes a moment to make sure there really is enough water at least.

"Awesome," Mike says, flat. "Do what you want."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Does it really matter what we do here?" Mike asks. "Florrick was good enough to have people want him back, and I've never seen Harvey lose anything for real, so what are we doing? Why badger him? Just encourage the guy."

Cary takes in Mike's words, and then makes his mouth droop. "Did Cinderella just find out she wasn't going to the ball?"

"Whatever."

"You can still wear the gown if it'll make you feel better."

Mike quickly turns to move closer to Vance and greet him. "How are you, Mr. Vance?"

"I'm here," Vance says, hands in his lap. He looks calm. "That's something, I guess."

"We appreciate it." Mike reviews his notes and says, "Today should be similar to what we've done before. We want to make sure you're as comfortable as possible when you testify."

"Actually, we'll mostly be giving tips," Cary says. "You have a good handle on how the process goes. We just have some final pointers."

Mike's attention snaps to Cary, but Cary is still engaging Mr. Vance.

"Ready? How're you feeling about tomorrow?" Cary asks, and Mike doesn't know what to contribute for the first five minutes.

;;

By the time they finish their hours of witness prep, meet with Harvey and Peter, and then wrap up for the evening, the sun is long gone. Cary and Mike hang around for an extra half hour to straighten up notes.

Cary finally hits the lights in the conference room. Mike double checks his pockets for his room key and wallet, and Cary says, "Is this still the same day? Are we sure we haven't been shut in this room for a day and a half, and that's why it's night again?"

"You're losing it, Agos," Mike says. "You're starting to speak gibberish."

Cary wraps his scarf around his neck. Sliding his gloves on, he says, "You know, they tell you that too much compassion becomes toxic for most of us, but you make it work for you."

"Uhhh," Mike says. He's not sure if that was a backhanded compliment or what, but his grandmother raised him right, so he finishes with, "thanks?"

Cary smiles, says, "I mean, this worked," and gestures between them. "What you do and what I do. We built a good case."

Mike decides to give the guy an inch. He says, "You do make a pretty effective tough lawyer to my nicer approach."

"Hey, I'm nice," Cary says.

Mike scoffs, "Yeah, tell that to our second and third witnesses. The last guy was still crying when I checked in with him yesterday."

Cary laughs as they walk out. He says, "Well, I'm nice to you."

That's debatable, which Mike is about to say, but when he looks up again, Cary's still smiling. Definitely overtired. They both need some sleep before trial.

As Mike starts to say goodnight, Cary throws in, "We should celebrate."

Instead of speaking, Mike opens and closes his mouth twice. Fortunately, a fish impression is exactly what he'd been going for here, so at least that works out. Cary isn't laughing anymore, though, watching Mike with his eyebrows raised expectantly.

Mike rubs his hand across the back of his neck. He says, "Ahh, I don't know. I don't think Harvey'll want to celebrate before we've even won the case."

Cary says, "Did I ask Harvey?"

"Umm," Mike says, because he knows his grandmother never prepared him to know how to respond to an ASA asking him out. If that's -- is that what's happening?

Cary says, "We did all that legwork. I said we should celebrate."

"Now?" Mike looks at his phone. "It's already after midnight."

He should sleep. They have to be in court at 10 in the morning, ready to go with all of their material.

"There's a really good pub that hits its best time of night right now. Great spot, I promise," Cary says, and his smile finally dims a few watts when Mike doesn't answer. "Unless you don't drink. If you don't, there's a restaurant across the street. Open late. It's not Chinese, but it's one of my favorites."

Then again, Mike thinks, neither one of them gets a chair.

"No, let's --" Mike starts to reconsider, but by then the words are already halfway out of his mouth. "No, let's go to the bar. Why not? I haven't been out much here."

"There we go," Cary says and touches Mike's arm, guides him down a hall. "Let's do it."

;;

In bar lighting, Cary looks more like a successful young Chicagoan and less like a douchebag.

"Ouch," Cary says, but he still passes Mike a beer.

"Didn't you call me Cinderella earlier?" Mike asks.

"Fair enough." Cary holds up his beer in surrender. "But was I right?"

Mike twists his glass against the table. It's already wet on the bottom, creating smeared circles of water. He says, "Aren't you upset about it? Isn't that why you tried to give Mr. Vance a heart attack?"

The smile comes back, but now it strikes Mike as more sincere, less aimed. Cary says, "I was hard on Vance to prove to him that the company that dumped him was still more bad-ass than he is."

"Mm-mm," Mike says. He takes a drink from his glass. "You were emotional."

Cary hedges a moment, and then says, "It does blow that neither one of us really gets to shine."

"Second chair doesn't get to say much anyway," Mike says.

"Yeah, that's what we tell ourselves now," Cary says.

Mike lifts a shoulder and drops it again. He concedes, "Well, for whatever it's worth, Harvey liked you when he first watched the tapes."

"What did you think?"

"You know that already."

Cary rests his elbow on the table and drums his fingers against his mouth. He says, "I did it your way today. Compassionate, understanding -- almost sweet."

"Almost," Mike says.

"Is that how things work at Pearson Hardman?" Cary asks.

Mike scoffs, says, "Not really. I'm a renegade in my caring."

"The sweet rebel," Cary says.

Mike laughs despite himself, says, "Yeah, maybe -- no. No, I refuse. That's worse than Cinderella." He thinks about walking into a hotel office space with a briefcase full of drugs. "Nah, I got lucky."

"I doubt it. Harvey doesn't seem like the kind of guy who does handouts," Cary says. He furrows his brow. "How long have you worked for him?"

"More than a year now. A few months over," Mike says.

"Where'd you work before?"

Tapping the side of his glass, Mike says, "First firm."

"First-year associate, fresh out law school, and you're working with someone known as New York's best closer?" Cary sits up straighter on his bar stool. "There's no way that was luck. Where'd you go?"

Mike picks up his glass again, saying, "Oh, you know. A law school is a law school."

"No, it's not. Modesty is pointless." Cary's smile morphs into a smirk quicker than Mike's comfortable with. He says, "But you don't have to tell me. I already know. Harvard 2011."

If Mike has any luck left in this world, it's hopefully dark enough that if the blood drains out of his face, there's only a 20 to 30 percent chance that Cary will notice. He says, "How do you know that?"

He then takes a few gulps from his beer, because suddenly Mike's thirstier than he's ever been in his life. Cary's face is awash in amber beer and distorted by the bottom of Mike's glass.

Cary says, "My memory doesn't work exactly like yours, but I'm good with research too."

"Our firm only hires from Harvard," Mike says. It's no big deal. Harvard is no big deal. Mike looks toward the exit.

Cary doesn't let it go. He says, "So why you? Why're you special?"

"Are you always challenging?" Mike asks.

"You didn't believe me when I was sweet." Cary exhales, pretends to look forlorn. He asks, "Are you always this evasive?"

"Does that work for you?"

"Does it work for Pearson Hardman?" Cary perks up again, biting his lip. He drags it out slowly, exposing his teeth in increments.

;;

It turns out that even in bar lighting, Cary's a little reminiscent of college frat boys Mike was never around for very long, so that isn't why Mike goes to his place. It's quicker to get to Cary's apartment than Mike's hotel from the bar.

"Is that why?" Cary asks as they get in and shut the door.

"Seriously?" Mike says.

"Sorry. I'm competitive, I can't help it." It takes Cary two seconds to cross to where Mike's moved inside the living room. He touches Mike's shoulders, leans in.

Mike kisses Cary, because he's in Chicago, and he doesn't have to own anything he does on a business trip. None of this is his responsibility.

"You think I'm dating him?" Mike asks, taking a moment for breath.

Cary's fingers go to the buttons of Mike's shirt. "I think you're here right now."

Mike kisses Cary because he wants to.

Cary kisses as carefully as he uses his words, not always delicate but somehow precise. And still, Mike manages to catch his shin on the edge of an end table. Cary's chuckles vibrates against Mike's mouth.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"It's nothing. Just my dignity," Mike says, and that makes Cary laugh again. It's not an unwelcome sensation.

Cary reaches down for Mike's hand, catches his fingers. He murmurs, "Bedroom's this way."

Mike allows himself to be led.

;;

In the morning, Mike opens his eyes and finds Cary kneeling beside the bed. Mike jerks back, startled, and Cary's amusement comes out a soft puffs of air. He makes up for his viciousness with a glass of orange juice.

"Morning, Mikey," he says.

Mike twists up his mouth, squints at the sun through the window. The taste of the juice proves a welcome alternative to the leftover death accumulated in his body.

Mike says, "Nobody calls me that."

Cary looks unfazed. He says, "I'm a trendsetter. Plus, I made eggs. You hungry?"

"Oh, god, yes," Mike says. Maybe food will help him feel better about the brilliant combination of alcohol and limited sleep. "How are you perky?"

"Closely-guarded secrets of the cruel people in the world," Cary says. "Dark, dark magic. You wouldn't be into it."

"Ha," Mike deadpans as Cary stands and walks away. He's only wearing underwear.

When Mike rolls onto his back, he looks down the length of his own body and finds that, oh, right, he's wearing nothing.

"Well," he mutters, "this was a choice."

With a few minutes to gain clarity, Mike walks into Cary's kitchen and sees that he's not much more alert than Mike himself. He's just had time to wash his face. He passes Mike a plate and says, "Court in an hour."

"Alright," Mike says. Plenty of time. He's cut it way closer for much higher-pressure situations, except -- "Shit, I need to go back and get a fresh suit."

"You won't make it," Cary says. "Just wear one of mine."

"For real?" Mike says. "I could -- yeah, we're close enough. I can make it work. Thanks, that's --"

"Sweet?" Cary says, bringing his own cup of juice to his lips. He can even pull off his smirk behind the rim of a glass, completely sober.

Mike breaks off a piece of bread crust and flicks it at him. Cary dodges it and points at Mike, warning him. He says, "Hey. Don't go there," but closes the distance between them to sneak a kiss to Mike's face anyway. "Ohh, just completely over-processed sugar there."

"Get away from me."

"But I'm adorable," Cary says.

"You want my breakfast to come back up?"

"I worked so hard on it for you." He looks so genuinely stricken that Mike cracks up, and Cary ducks in to get Mike's mouth this time. He lingers, lets Mike sigh into it, and then pulls away to say, "I'm taking a shower."

Cary lays his hand on Mike's shoulder as he stands up, squeezes. Walking away, he says, "Take that as an invitation if you want it to be."

Mike eats more toast and eggs, listening to the sound of shower starting. Cary starts to whistle, the bathroom door clearly open and allowing the sound to travel easily. Mike washes down his food with the rest of his orange juice, leaves half on his plate and finally pushes back to trace the source of Cary's humming as he starts in on a tune that sounds a lot like Sinatra.

With water cascading between them, Cary says, "I went to Harvard too."

Mike tries to stay neutral, but he can feel horror surging inside him anyway. He says, "I, uh. I don't remember you."

"Different class," Cary says. "I'm a few years older than you, Ross. I had girlfriend who wanted to get married right out of school and everything, but I wanted other things. Peace corps instead."

"But you came back to law?"

"That was always the intention." Cary ducks his head under the water more directly, rinsing.

Mike thinks about what that might've been like -- finishing school, him and Trevor. he tries to imagine what it would've been like to meet Jenny if they were both legit. He says, "My best friend almost made me a runner. I was almost a dealer instead of a lawyer."

"Wow," Cary says, wiping his eyes. "And now you're trying to bust big drug cases."

"It's crazy, I know," Mike says. Cary doesn't even know the half of it.

He says to Mike, "I was high on shrooms in the middle of a murder case once."

"Okay, that tops me," Mike says.

Cary amends, saying, "Not a trial or anything, but it was -- I was in a room while our client was being questioned for like a day and half. Freaking out. I was supposed to have a day off."

Mike laughs him. He says, "No, that's amazing. You definitely win."

Narrowing his eyes, Cary asks, "Are you just saying that because I like hearing that phrase?"

"Of course you like it," Mike says. Lawyers.

;;

Splitting up and taking separate routes to court seems like a good idea until Mike has to jump out of his cab and sprint the last two blocks. Harvey's waiting on the street for Mike. He holds up his wrist and shakes once or twice, as if Mike's supposed to be able to reads the face from across the street.

"Court's at ten. We should've walked in already," Harvey says.

"Sorry," Mike says, opening his bag to dig around for copies of the documents they're starting with. "It's not like you need me. I gave you this stuff."

Harvey doesn't answer, simply makes an impatient motion with his hand, beckoning the folder to him. Mike relinquishes it and tries to catch his breath as Harvey gives them a once-over.

"There was traffic on Wacker," Mike explains. "I had to run that last -- it was bad."

"Miss your bike?"

" _Yes_ ," Mike says. Harvey doesn't smile, but he looks less impatient for the few seconds it takes him to then notice Mike's ensemble.

"Whoa, whoa, where'd you get this suit?" Harvey asks.

Mike says, "What? It's nice."

He's not lying, though the pants are almost too short. Cary's chest is a little broader than Mike's. Fucking people who work out regularly and need defined arm muscles. Mike tries not to push at the waist of the suit and draw more attention to his ankles.

It's doesn't matter much, because Harvey still says, "You look like a child playing in someone else's wardrobe."

"Do you want me to change? I thought we didn't have time," Mike says, attempting to bring the focus back to the case. His ankles threaten to make an appearance anyway. He's probably in for a day of that.

The expression on Harvey's face makes it clear that he's no longer endeared to Mike at all this morning, but he at least turns to head inside the courthouse. Florrick isn't in sight, but Cary's waiting for them, looking way too pleased with his morning, but then again, people on time probably have that luxury.

"How did you," Mike starts but thinks better of himself just in time.

"Morning," Cary says, sweeping his eyes across Harvey and Mike to include them both in the greeting. He stops on Mike. "Nice suit."

Harvey's expression sharpens, moving quickly from Cary to Mike. Cary's looking at Mike's ankles, entertained. Mike catches Harvey's eye and shrugs. Harvey doesn't comment, just opens the door and takes the lead as they move to start.

;;

On the bright side, they trounce the competition.

Mike stops sweating in his seat, strangely engrossed and nervous as he watches the proceedings. When he stands, he thinks he'll definitely have to get Cary's suit dry-cleaned before he ships it back, but a it's small sacrifice to make given their triumph. When Cary smiles at him as they walk out, Mike thinks, okay, his triumph. He had a good night.

Florrick shakes Mike's hand outside of the courtroom. He says, "Great work, Mr. Ross. Glad we could come together on this."

"Thank you, sir," Mike says. "You and Harvey sold it."

They exchange a few more words, Florrick ultimately distracted by Harvey himself. As Mike watches, Cary comes to stand at his side and says, "Congratulations, counselor. You won the day."

Mike tilts his head to the side, considering, "You're right, that is a great sentence to hear."

"So, even compassionate men have pride," Cary says, wistfully, like he's taking time to appreciate the concept.

"I'm still a lawyer. And this is only the first round, right?" Mike says. Even with few feet between them, Mike can't make out much of Florrick and Harvey's conversation. "Why do you work for him?"

"Florrick?" Cary says.

"Does his reputation get in the way?"

Cary mulls it over, says, "He's good at what he does. And he trusts me to be good at what I do."

"Yeah," Mike says, seeing Harvey finally turn and head for the exit.

"Ever think about coming to Chicago?" Cary asks. That steals Mike's attention. From the pleased look on Cary's face, that was his goal. "I wasn't kidding yesterday -- about this. You're good at this, too. You'd do well here."

At a loss for a response, Mike wipes his hands on the jacket of his suit -- Cary's suit. Harvey's on his phone when Mike glances back. It's one thing to step out of New York on a business trip, but it's another to take his risky show on the road.

"I don't know," Mike says. "I'm still learning with Pearson Hardman. I owe Harvey a lot."

"Harvey," Cary says slowly.

"It's not like that. Don't make it something it's not." Mike says. The strap of his bag cuts into his shoulder. He shifts it, but it doesn't help. Cary holds his hands up, but it doesn't really communicate a forfeit. "And it's not a competition."

"Of course it is," Cary says, slipping his hands into his pockets.

When Mike looks back this time, Harvey's returning Mike's gaze. He nods his head toward the doors. Cary's smirks flattens out, flips into something Mike saw last night -- this morning.

He says, "Have a safe trip home, Mike."

"Thank you," Mike says. "I'll, uh, I'll send your clothes back."

"No rush."

"Okay," Mike says, suddenly floundering. He's thankful all over again when Cary holds his hand out.

They shake.

Harvey's disappeared by the time Mike goes to catch up. He heads outside quickly and spots Harvey standing on the street, hand up to hail a cab.

"Wow, are you sure you can do this without me?" Mike asks, the harsh sunlight forcing him to squint. Chicago may be chilly, but that doesn't stop it from being extremely bright some days.

"Had to before," Harvey says, which Mike isn't expecting. Of course a cab pulls up within a minute. "Wrap up your betting?"

The tone of his voice halts Mike. "Are you mad at me?"

Harvey reaches to open the car door but falls short of getting in. He stops, blocking Mike, and he says, "Look, yeah, traveling for a case on the company's dime can be fun, but when we're supposed to be working, we do. That could still mean we stay late, and it means showing up on time. Do that. Otherwise, I could come by myself."

"Now you're regretting bringing me," Mike says.

"I brought you, because I needed your to help to get something done," Harvey says. "Because I thought you were the best for it. That you could be reliable on a trip instead of lost in Chicago with friends."

Mike frowns. "Are you talking about Cary?"

"Look, I don't care what you do on your own time, but it's a problem when you start cutting into mine, showing up late and sloppy for my cases."

"Harvey, it was like a minute, and we _killed it_ ," Mike says. He thought that that was the point. "Are you serious? One minute messes this up, so now it was a bad idea for me to come? I'm sorry, fine. I'll go back to New York, and I won't come to Chicago ever again, if that's what you want."

"Excuse me?"

"Can we just go home?" Mike asks. "I'm tired, I'm uncomfortable, and I'd really like us to go home."

Harvey quiets, expression severe and then slowly relaxing. He lets his eyes travel down, visibly put off by Mike's suit, which Mike doesn't get. Maybe it's not custom fit and didn't cost $2000, but it's fine.

Mouth quirking, Harvey says, "Don't tell me you're keeping this on. These pants."

Mike's mouth drops open a little, offended. He says, "Hey, I barely have time to go back to the hotel and grab my bag. I have to wear _something_ on the plane."

Harvey's smirk is in full force then, one puff of breath escaping him in a sound that resembles the beginnings of a laugh.

"What?"

Harvey shrugs off the question, twisting to get into the cab. He's definitely chuckling now.

Mike tries again, "No, tell me. What?"

"Come on, before you make me late for my flight, too," Harvey says, ignoring Mike until he moves to slide into the cab behind Harvey. "Other side!"

"Right, no sliding," Mike says and shuts the door to walk around the trunk.


End file.
